I Drink Alone
by TrueAwesomeSauce
Summary: Who says you should never drink alone? 5 times men of the Enterprise do; and one time, not so much. My first foray into fan fiction...
1. McCoy

Stripping off yet another surgical tunic, he rounded the corner into his office. The repairs he had had to make had taken hours, and left him exhausted. He wished there had been more to do: There was also the body of a crewman for whom it had been too late.

Now there was paperwork to do. Paperwork.

He was too damned tired to even rail against the injustice, or the futility.

Drawing up one foot, he leaned against the wall, just inside, where Chapel wouldn't immediately see him. He rested his head back, and closed his eyes. Closing his eyes was a mistake.

He raised one hand to scrub his forehead. Noted, in his semi-detachment, that it was likely to start shaking soon, when the adrenaline wore off…

So he pushed off of the wall, and headed to his desk chair. Stopped. Went instead to the cabinet. Sometimes, he was grateful that it didn't open automatically for him. Sometimes, the fact that he had to slide the panel aside was enough to make him think twice about it.

Not this time.


	2. Kirk

He stepped off the transporter pad with a bounce. In that moment, the fight left him, and he needed an extra step to steady himself. A part of his brain noted that Spock seemed as fresh as ever, and he wanted to allow himself a little resentment at that fact. But the grown-up part of his brain, the part he told himself it would be wiser to cultivate, recognized the injustice: His First Officer worked hard to maintain the equilibrium that made it possible, and it was illogical to resent the rewards of that effort. He chuckled a little at the thought.

"Captain?" Spock's brow questioned him wordlessly, as they moved off the platform.

Kirk just smiled, and waved him along, the other members of the team following.

"Thanks," he said to the Transporter Chief, as they passed.

In the corridor, Kirk turned toward his quarters. He needed a shower - and a moment. Spock nodded once, with preternatural understanding, and headed to the Bridge.

Jim knew that when he made his way up there later, everything would be as it ought to be. All paperwork would be done, ready for his signature, and there would be a concise report on Ship's status, no wasted words. Spock was a minor miracle, and Jim was grateful.

He headed into his quarters, and stripped off his torn and bloodied shirt.

He looked at his eyes in the mirror, just for a moment, then splashed his face. He felt the cool water wash over his bruised knuckles, and pulled a handful up to his lips.

Sometimes he needed miracles.


	3. Scotty

She was exciting, no doubt of that.

Alone at the table in the corner of the base observation lounge, he stood and looked up at her as she passed.

She glowed white as the moon in the lights from the base, and she silently slipped across his vision like a swan, an angel, a ship in full sail.

He raised his glass a little in a private salute. All whiskey should be like this, he thought: Single malt, old enough to vote. His Lady deserved nothing less.


	4. Pike

Chris Pike awoke in the middle of the night, hands pressed flat on the bed beside him. He suspected he'd called out: His throat was sore, and he was breathing fast. The listening silence echoed around him.

It had been months, but the dreams were just as vivid, just as terrifying.

He believed them when they told him they would fade; that this, too, would pass.

He tried to believe them when they said he would walk again; that he was gonna be fine. He tried not to see the glimmer of doubt in their eyes.

He reached one arm, still long and lean, to the bedside table, found the pills, found the water.

He tried not to think it was weak to need them.


	5. Spock

He unfolded long limbs and stood, economy of motion lending the movements unconscious grace.

He did everything deliberately. (Moved, thought, spoke.) It set him apart from those he served alongside, but that was just one thing of many.

If that thought occurred to him, he would set it aside deliberately, as well: It was an unprofitable pursuit, considering the obvious.

He poured himself a cup of tea, and took a sip. He allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction - for it was perfectly brewed, and it was the perfect temperature.

He has timed his meditations well.


	6. and

Counting seconds, he reached for a second teacup.

He carefully poured, then replaced the pot where it would stay warm.

He lifted the cup and moved with it toward the door.

He paused; and as his movement stilled, the door slid open.

She stepped in, and as she stretched up to kiss him, Nyota smiled.

"Perfect timing," she breathed, her lips still close enough for him to feel the words.


End file.
